Ryan Shorthouse reviews There Will Be Blood

Oil, religion, family, and greed: European leftists have a tendency to clump these issues together to form a narrow and negative view of the so-called home of Republicanism, the southern states of America. Paul Anderson’s There will be Blood is a much-needed, more thoughtful insight into the modern history of this part of the world.

The film reveals a more complicated relationship between religion and wealth in the southern states of America- often in denial of each other, but constantly dependent on one another. Ambitious Daniel Plainview (Daniel Day-Lewis) strikes lucky after buying the land surrounding Little Boston, building an oil empire which makes him a millionaire. He uses religion to justify his ruthless pursuit of wealth to keep the locals on-side: he has to promise the local church $10,000 to buy the land he needs, and is forced to become a member of the church to have access to neighbouring land and be pardoned from the shooting of an impostor pretending to be his half-brother.

Anderson shows how dependent religion is on money. Eli Holliday (Paul Sunday) is the creepy and fervent leader of the church, who continuously begs an uncompromising Plainview for cash, culminating in a gripping final scene on the eve of the Great Depression where Plainview bullies Eli into abandoning his values and announcing “I am a false prophet. God is a superstition”. The film is incredibly successful therefore in demonstrating that the philosophy of those in the Deep South is more sophisticated and multifaceted than “Greed is Good”.

Supported by a harrowing score by Radiohead’s Jonny Greenwood, the damaging consequences of the pursuit of oil are shown with terrifying and bloody realism. Men are killed by heavy blows from clunky equipment while working in dark, dreary spaces. Individuals, families and communities are destroyed. Black splattered across his face, a humiliated Eli- after being dunked in oil by Plainview- taunts his father at the dinner table for not initially demanding more money for the estate, then savagely attacks him. The muscles in his face contort; his firery eyes beam through the black screen: the scene is spine-chilling.

Danny Day-Lewis deserves his BAFTA. Apparently, he was in character on and off-set for the entire filming process, and his perseverance shows: it’s an intelligent and gripping performance. Far from the stereotypical Deep South capitalists made famous by Dallas, Lewis excellently conveys the vulnerabilities and ruthlessness of the nakedly ambitious. Yes, he never gives the Church the remaining $5,000 he promised and he threatens to kill those who cross him. But, he is quite brilliant in conveying a deep, Kane-like loneliness, a desire to return to childhood and a depressing lack of trust in others, all prices to pay in his pursuit of wealth. Forever dependent on one confidant- whether it his orphan-turned-son, a fake half-brother, or his dog- the director shows that the rich can be losers too.

Moments of touching compassion, such as the rescuing of his son after he is injured or the care for a young girl who is hit by her father, fail to re-emerge as time passes, Plainview losing all of those who are close to him because of his relentless ambition. When his son ends their partnership in 1929, it is this final loss that leads to his ultimate insanity, and permanent and uncontrollable drunkenness.

The film reminds us of the price we pay for our obsession with ownership. Plainview owns so much in the end but nothing which is meaningful- like an enduring relationship with a wife, child, brother or friend. It is a powerful, touching story of loss in the face of mammoth material gain.

Ryan Shorthouse is Research Assistant to David Willetts MP